


it's just you and me (and all the world crashing on the couch)

by ultalumna (yujael)



Series: and they told us we couldn't live like this [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Running Away, a vague au where some thing exist and some things don't, because half the spirit of running away is denial, some people are alive and some people just aren't there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-13 13:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18032270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujael/pseuds/ultalumna
Summary: A prince runs away one night with his boyfriend, and nothing more than a bit of money to get them... somewhere. And then their car breaks down, and so they stay there. The world might catch up eventually, but until then they make the most out of living in Galdin Quay.





	1. run, boy, run

**Author's Note:**

> I took a break from writing a thing with plot to write a thing that still has plot, but only vaguely, much in the way that an untended vine grows the same way as any other except for the part where it's all over the place. Other tags and characters will be added as we go along.
> 
> AKA, the life and times to two idiots who ran away straight outta high school. Enjoy :)

Here is the thing about living in Galdin Quay: it’s not cheap. It’s a resort town, all fancy restaurants and tourists. It looks like a nice place to live--for a week, and then you have to face down your budget and ask yourself why you aren’t moving back to wherever you came from.

In Noctis’ case, because he doesn’t want to.

In Prompto’s case, because Noctis doesn’t want to.

So, the budget is kind of a thing. It’s kind of a rift at first--Prompto is well versed in budgeting, Noctis is not. Prompto knows that every dollar he earns has to go to a dozen different places, and it’s been that way since he was halfway through high school. To him, it’s simply how life is and it’s not too difficult.

Noctis, though. He means well and Prompto knows that. But he still grew up rich and doesn’t fully understand why they can’t afford things like a whole ass other person coming to do clean up on the regular. It’s just not possible if they want to eat.

It makes things stiff and uncomfortable, and it’s super unfair to both of them--but then there are three full days that Prompto likes to refer to as “that time Noctis went off his rocker,” where he did nothing but fish with an old guy that had fishing lures dangling off his hat, eat half the fish he caught over a campfire that would have made Gladio cry if he’d seen it, and chase giant crabs up and down the coast.

At the end of it, he’d burst back into their apartment with a bucket full of fish, a hand full of cash and a bright blue headband on his head, and announced, “Prompto, I’ve found my calling.”

This is how Prompto learns that Noctis did what the common people like to refer to as getting a job.

The budgeting thing becomes a general fact of life rather than a relationship chilling issue after that. Prompto does photo shoots for tourists and Noctis juggles hunting strictly in the vicinity of Galdin Quay and being a lifeguard for one of the resorts. His employers don’t know that he’s, you know, supposed to be a prince. They just know that he launched himself into the ocean without a moment’s hesitation to save someone whom he’d just happened to notice was drowning, and that’s all they really need to know, anyway.

Together, they make enough to support themselves in their apartment and still have savings. Noctis hovers whenever Prompto works on the budget, and Prompto thinks Ignis would be proud of the way they both figure out how to handle their money better.

Living in Galdin Quay isn’t cheap--but for a couple of runaways, it could be a lot worse.

 

*

 

Their apartment is, frankly, not that bad. It’s the second floor of a two storey building, so it isn’t big. The property is butt up against the cliffs that wall in the quay, so they don’t have much of a view, either. But, on the upside, it’s a recently renovated unit, so it’s clean and they didn’t have to buy new appliances, which would have sucked. Royally. They have space for what they need, and, after their unsteady start, they have the money to keep it.

Prompto thinks Gladio would have called it a shoe box. Ignis would have called it quaint.

Noctis had taken two steps in before he’d stopped cold and said to the landlord’s face, with his royal accent and with his boyfriend standing directly behind the landlord desperately signalling at him to cut that shit out, “There’s no foyer.”

Prompto still doesn’t know how they got out of that one without the rent sneaking up, but they did.

The front door drops them into the living room, where they have a giant chair sitting in the corner with the best light because they found it at a discount and it’s just wide enough that they can both sit in it with minimal squeezing, which makes it the optimal seat for cuddling.

A hallway that isn’t any longer than fifteen feet--they checked--leads the way to their kitchen, where they had to fight the forces of matter itself to get a table and chairs in so that they could eat like civilized people. Noctis isn’t living in a palace anymore, but damn, Prompto’s not about to let him eat on the Six damned  _floor_. There are three doors on the opposite wall of the corridor. The washroom, the tiniest closet in Lucis, and then their bedroom, where they have a corkboard chock full of pictures and chocobo stickers and coupons for Noctis’ favourite foods.

At the very end of the hall is a window, but it faces east. Get a load of the stunning view of that cliff face, babe.

Most of the walls are an okay shade of burgundy, because Galdin Quay likes to be off-brand Altissia or something, and so they can’t get away with beige. That’s fine, though. They have personality and so does their living space. The place, overall, is good.

Sometimes, though, there are days when it’s too quiet. Not as in actually quiet--turning the volume up on the television solves that problem pretty fast--but the kind of quiet that settles when there’s something missing and they both know it.

Prompto is very nearly ready to broach the subject of homesickness in all seriousness, no jokes or memes allowed, but then, suddenly, Noctis appears in the entryway again like an Astral come to bestow salvation on the apartment, except this time, instead of a new job, he has a ball of fur in his arms.

“Prom,” he gasps, out of breath for some reason that Prompto can’t conceive of just yet, “meet our new roommate.”

Their new roommate is a calico cat with no collar whom Noctis found begging for food in front of the Mother of Pearl on his way home from work. If it minds being cradled like a baby, it doesn’t have any intention of rectifying the situation.

“Dude, what--”

It also doesn’t mind being dumped into Prompto’s lap on the couch before he can get more words out of his mouth. Noctis rushes back to the door.

“Keep an eye on him--I’ll be right back!”

And then he’s gone, and Prompto is helpless to stop the cat from pacing up and down his body, tiny paws digging in almost painfully on his tummy before it decides that’s a good place to curl up.

He has no idea what the landlord’s pet policy is. They didn’t bring one with them, so he hadn’t asked.

But the cat’s purring, so.

 

*

 

Prompto suggests putting _Ignis 2: Electric Boogaloo_ on Ignis II’s collar as a joke and is suitably mortified but also overjoyed when Noctis brings the collar home and shows him the inscriptions on the tag. Name, check. Phone number, check. Absolutely terrible joke that Ignis would strangle them for were he to ever find out, check.

Their apartment gets a little cramped after Ignis II moves in because Noctis accidentally took a giant bite out of their savings while he was off being a wild child in the pet store and now they have too many clawing posts. Prompto can’t be upset about it, though, because having a pet doesn’t entirely fill the void that haunts their apartment, but it does a pretty good job of covering it up. It helps that Ignis II settles in like this had been the plan all along.

He sits on the counter while Noctis cooks the only dish he’s allowed to make on the stove--the same dish he perfected over a campfire--and he sits on the back of the couch while Prompto dances through the room with the mop in nothing but his underwear. He goes on walks with Prompto when the sun is barely up, and he sits on Noctis’ face when he sleeps in. He doesn’t even startle when Umbra pops up out of the blue, using that funky magic ability to track Noctis down to the corners of the world to deliver a message from Lady Lunafreya, who, thank the Six, apparently sees no reason to tell literally anyone where the missing prince is.

He still tries to claw the furniture even though they have a million posts for that, but Prompto suspects it’s because he’s trying to punish them for something.

He’s purring on Noctis’ chest while they lay in bed when Noctis turns his head toward Prompto and murmurs, “I kept forgetting I was out here, before. Thought I’d wake up and I’d be back--back in the city.”

Prompto reaches over and pats Ignis II behind the ear because there’s no way he could purr and loosen up this knot in Noct’s chest. “You miss it, though, right?”

Noctis is quiet for a while. His breath falters once, chest shuddering on the inhale. “Just pieces of it. But I can’t have those pieces without--without everything else. Gotta choke just to get some air.”

Prompto can only tangle two of their limbs together while Ignis II is still making like an old motor, but he does his best. “Just tell me what you wanna do.”

“I wanna stay here,” Noctis says. It’s the sound of a kid putting up a fight they know they’re losing on account of their parent being five times their size and just as strong. Prompto nuzzles closer.

“Then we’ll stay here. I’m here, Noct.”

Noctis buries his face in Prompto’s shoulder and hugs his cat, and Ignis II purrs and purrs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your classic runaways au except with a soft camera filter slapped on top of it. It's written in a very different style than what I usually do and it won't be too long, but there will be other bits and pieces that accompany the overarching plot that winds through this fic. Thanks for reading!


	2. speak his name and behold

Ignis knocks on the door one evening. Prompto doesn’t  _know_ that it’s Ignis when he goes to answer the door with no shirt on, but that’s what he does. And when he opens the door, Ignis Scientia is right there, in the flesh, and Prompto is so startled that he promptly slams the door in Ignis’ face.

Ignis II is in the big chair, looking at Prompto like he’s just committed a cardinal sin. He hops down and disappears silently into the bedroom, which kinda says it all.

Ignis I clears his throat loudly from the other side of the door.

“Prompto, I know Noct is in there,” Ignis says. And Astrals above, Prompto needs to get his ears checked because he could swear Ignis sounds like he’s pleading. “Can we not sit down and talk like civilized adults?”

Prompto can’t deny him that. Mostly because Ignis is a friend at heart, but also partly because they almost caused property damage trying to get their kitchen table in for the sake of being civilized adults. He opens the door. Ignis is still there and Prompto needs to see if his eyesight’s gotten worse while he’s at the audiologist, because Ignis Scientia doesn’t do desperate.  

“Um, actually, Noct isn’t here right now,” Prompto says. Because that’s what Ignis wants and needs to hear. “Wait--lemme back up--I’m not lying or anything! He’s just out right now, so he’s… not here.”

It helps, sort of. Ignis’s eyes stop doing that thing that makes Prompto feel like he and Noct ran a dozen puppies over on the way out of Insomnia, at least. “I see. May I come in? I am alone.”

“Yeah, same. Oh--right.” Prompto steps aside, and Ignis floats into his quaint shoebox apartment with way more grace than Prompto had actually expected from someone who looks like they’ve been wrung out and then tossed lopsidedly on the line to dry on a foggy day. It takes two seconds to close the door, and he uses those precious seconds where Ignis can’t see his face to grimace, because this is his fault, too.

He could have been the voice of reason, but instead, he was the voice that said, “yeah, Noct, let’s go live on the beach and become sentient seashells.”

Ignis surveys the living room, the couch and the bookcase holding more knick-knacks and empty space than books, the television and the giant chair squished into the corner, and the unfathomable number of cat toys. “Quaint,” he says. One point for Prompto.

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees awkwardly. “It’s nice. You, um, want a drink? We have… water.”

“Please.”

Prompto tries to leave the room like he isn’t fleeing, but he kind of is, even though it’s only to the kitchen for a few seconds. He fills a glass halfway before he changes his mind, and when he presents a can of Ebony instead Ignis looks like he’s just bestowed a blessing upon him.

Scourge’s unholy ghost, they kinda fucked this up.

Prompto pulls Ignis to the couch so that he can sit down. “Noct should be back soon. He should be on his way back from work, so…”

Ignis looks up at him with his head tilted funny and yeah, Prompto wants to say, that’s what he thought, too.

Instead, he snaps his fingers as a lightbulb lights up in his head. “Stay right there, Iggy.”

Ignis II is still in the bedroom, curled up on Noctis’ pillow. He still doesn’t mind being cradled like a baby. Prompto transfers him from the bed straight to Ignis’ lap, and Ignis looks at the cat like he’s only just now making the connection between the pet toys and the pet.

“He, um,” Prompto points at the cat’s collar. “Noct missed you, too.”

Ignis looks at the tag, fingers careful as he tilts it to read the inscription and--oh no, don’t do it, Iggy, don’t--

Ignis turns the tag over, and boy, oh boy, if he has anything to say about _Ignis 2: Electric Boogaloo_ , he doesn’t say it to Prompto. He simply smooths the tag down against Ignis II’s fur and pats him on the head. Ignis II seems satisfied with this arrangement. Only then does Prompto find the strength to move forward.

“So, uh, how’ve ya been, Ignis?” Like he doesn’t already know. Yeah, smooth.

“Tired,” Ignis replies. He sips the Ebony like it alone will revitalize him. “It took much longer than I’d thought to find you.”

“No kidding,” Prompto blurts out. It’s been literal months since they moved in here. He slaps himself mentally. “I mean--I wasn’t trying to dig on you--I just thought, y’know, we’re trying to be on the down-low, but Noct is still kind of… Noct? I thought Gladio was gonna bust our door down way sooner.”

“I’m alone,” Ignis repeats. “Gladio is still in the Crown City. I may have… left him behind.”

Prompto blinks at him a few times. Then a couple times more, a little heavier, like that will somehow convey the complete befuddlement that has descended upon him. It doesn’t work because Ignis has decided to stare down his coffee. He has to actually use words. “What?”

You know, the real eloquent ones.

“I stole the Nocturna and left Gladio behind,” Ignis says with a little more force. “I will have to apologize to Noct at some point because his car was equipped with tracking technology--”

“ _Was_ \--”

“--and so the car incurred some damage while I was disabling it.”

The plot thickens.

“I’m confused,” Prompto admits.

Ignis looks like he wants to get up and start pacing, but Ignis II is still chilling out in his lap, so he settles for waving his free hand around. Prompto steels himself, because, honestly, he deserves what’s coming. “Let’s recap your trip, shall we? Tell me if I get something wrong. Noct stole his father’s Regalia and absconded to Hammerhead with you.”

Prompto winces. “Yes.”

“From there, Master Cid traded some run down clunker for the Regalia so that you could continue undetected.”

“Yes.” The Jalopy wasn’t all that bad, really, but it did break down as soon as they arrived here, and they haven’t gotten around to fixing it again, which is only part of the reason they decided to stay in Galdin.

“You came here and,” Ignis gestures around the room, “settled down in what must be the first place you could afford with what Noct stole from the treasury.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“On your own.”

“Yeah.” Prompto tries to bring a silver lining to the front. “It was rough at first, but we’ve gotten the hang of things, and I _promise_ Noct is safe--”

Ignis cuts him off. “Why?”

Prompto just kind of stands there like a fish out of water for a couple seconds. But, he’s come this far. Might as well go for broke. Quietly, he explains, “He said he felt like he was choking. All the time. Even though he misses a lot of things. He couldn’t just be Noct, and he… I think he was scared that he’d never get the chance if he didn’t get it himself.”

“So he took you and ran.”

“Yeah.” He’s got nothing but whispers left because now Ignis knows the whole thing and he doesn’t even need Prompto to explain how much of an accomplice he was, how he hadn’t tried to talk any sense into Noct. The Crown City might as well be looming in the reflection of Ignis’ glasses.

Ignis deflates a bit. “Such was my theory.”

“So… what now?”

Ignis shrugs. “I don’t know yet.”

That’s the last thing Prompto expected to hear. For several reasons.

“You’re… Don’t you want us to come back to Insomnia?”

“I would have brought Gladio for that,” Ignis says dismissively. “And a different vehicle.”

“I’m confused again.”

Ignis sighs. “As I said, I understand why he left. The only thing that surprises me is the fact that you two managed to evade me for so long.”

“Wait, how long have you been driving around?”

“That’s irrelevant.” It’s also kind of upsetting, but thank you, Ignis. “He wanted a chance to be himself. Not a prince, not an heir. You were the only one within his circle with whom he could attain that with, so, despite the fact that I could have done much to ease whatever burdens you endured when you first settled here, he… left me behind.”

The plot is kind of congealing now, much like most of what Noctis tries to make in the kitchen. Prompto wants to launch himself out the window. He’s pretty sure he’d survive flying off the second storey. Anything would be better than being rooted to the floor next to the couch while Ignis pets Ignis II like the cat is his only true friend left in the world after his other friends left him in the dust.

“You’re sad… because Noct ran away and only took me with him.”

There’s that mournful sigh again, and great Ramuh’s beard, Prompto’s actually right. “Gladio is somewhat single-minded. I don’t fault him for putting his duty first, always. I was also given a duty, but I always thought--I tried, despite everything my work entailed--”

Oracle take the  _wheel_ , none of what Ignis is trying to say is going to get any easier. Prompto all but catapults himself onto the couch next to Ignis and cuts him off. “Hey, Iggy, you don’t gotta explain it. I get it now. I get it--and I’m really, really sorry--”

That’s when the door bursts open and Noctis announces with the tone of someone who fully intends to use all the hot water in the shower, consideration be damned, “The next time I catch someone tossing their fucking garbage in the ocean, I’m gonna fist fight them behind the Crow’s Nest.”

A funny little thing happens in the span of two seconds where Ignis turns around and locks eyes with Noctis, who locks eyes with Prompto, who then tries to come back around to Ignis, except Ignis doesn’t play along. Instead, he’s full on leaping out of his seat, dumping Ignis II to the floor in the process, and exclaiming, “It’s only me!”

Noctis, only a half-second from launching a full investigation of the apartment and the surrounding area outside to smoke out Gladio, who really isn’t here, stops dead in the doorway. It looks like he believes Ignis, but that doesn’t make him happy about it.

Prompto scrambles over the back of the couch to take him by the arm. “C’mere, Noct--just sit tight, Iggy, we’ll be back in a jiffy--”

“Prom, what--”

“Just--c’mere.”

Prompto shuts the door and then pulls Noctis into the bedroom, and thankfully it all happens with minimal struggling. The bedroom door clicks shut behind them, and then it’s quiet, it’s dim, and the only force in the world that can judge them is the cliff wall outside. Court is now in session, babe, Judge Nesting Pigeon presiding.

It goes… okay. Noctis trembles and grits his teeth and trembles some more, wavering like the palm trees along the coast during a summer storm. He’s going to lose it, he’s going to lose it--he insists that he’s going to lose what they’ve cobbled together here, but Prompto manages to pull him back from the edge of breaking.

By the time he gets around to explaining that Ignis missed Noctis so bad he stole a car--Noctis’ car--and mangled at least one of its functions so that he couldn’t be tracked, and then went on a cross country road trip alone just to find them, Noctis looks like he’s on the verge of cracking for a totally different reason.

But Noctis is really bad at openly communicating his feelings, and Ignis II is still in the living room so Prompto can’t use him to help take down the walls, so it takes another five minutes of careful breathing before Noctis can hazard an admission. “Missed him, too.”

“Wanna tell him that?”

Noctis nods jerkily. They get up and go back to the living room, where instead of saying anything like what he’d just agreed to say, Noctis says, “I’m making dinner,” and then disappears into the kitchen.

Ignis looks at Prompto with that funky tilt of his head again. “He’s… making dinner.”

Prompto offers him a grin that he hopes is confident. “He’s really good at this one dish. You’ll like it, seriously.”

Ignis II wanders off to take his usual spot on the counter while Noctis cooks. The smell of fish becomes inescapable, but Prompto doesn’t sense any such intentions from anyone as he clears off the coffee table so that they can eat, since the kitchen table only has two chairs.

Ignis stays for dinner and compliments the chef, because Noct really is good at grilling fish, and then, after a lengthy conversation with Noctis outside that Prompto can only catch bits and pieces of through the door, he bids them goodnight and leaves them to themselves.

 

*

 

Some things happen right away, some things don’t. Noctis doesn’t warn him either way, so Prompto is suitably alarmed when he gets up on the morning and Ignis is there. In their kitchen. He’s located their stash of aprons with dumb puns on the front, and he’s also somehow summoned a dozen eggs from the aether or something because Prompto knows for a fact that they ran out of eggs the day before.

“Good morning,” Ignis says like he’s just supposed to be there, in front of the stove, flipping an omelette. Maybe he is, too. What will he do if Prompto doesn’t question it?

Nothing, apparently. He makes breakfast, leaves the leftovers in the fridge for Noctis when he finally rises from the grave, and disappears again. Prompto doesn’t have the chance to bring the topic up in conversation, either, because he’s got appointments to get to.

He goes to work, takes pictures, eats a salad for lunch, takes more pictures, and then comes home again, and Ignis has reappeared in the living room at some point during all that. Noctis is huddled next to him on the couch and all but demands that Prompto plays King’s Knight with them. He does, because King’s Knight is fun even when Ignis picks up how to play super fast and starts trying to run all Noctis’ scores into the ground.

Ignis helps Prompto make dinner, and then he disappears again. If there’s any mention of work--of the Crown City, of the Citadel, of anybody there--Prompto doesn’t catch it. Ignis just comes, makes food, and then goes, although on one occasion he spent the majority of the day in the apartment with Noctis on his day off, watching a marathon of a house flipping show.

A week and a half passes like this before Prompto works up the guts to ask Ignis where he’s staying in town because as time goes on he’s been looking more than a little dishevelled. Not as bad as the first night he’d appeared on their doorstep, but getting there. For Ignis, this means that he looks more or less like Prompto does on a regular day. If he gets any worse he’s gonna start wigging Prompto out here.

So, he asks while Ignis is chopping vegetables for dinner in their kitchen, and then he wills Ignis to not say that he’s been sleeping in the Nocturna every night, or something equally as awful.

“I’ve procured shelter,” Ignis says, which, frankly, is even worse than just saying he’s been crashing in the car he technically stole from Noctis. “Don’t trouble yourself, Prompto.”

“Oh, buddy,” Prompto says, like that alone will convey just how unhelpful that statement is. Because, here’s the thing: Galdin Quay is not cheap. “Too late for that. Astrals, Iggy, what does that even _mean_?”

Ignis rolls his eyes, but it’s the friendly kind and not the kind where Prompto’s an idiot again. “I have a suitable enough spot in a caravan, Prompto. It’s fine, all things considered.”

“All things considered,” Prompto mimics with a bad accent. He slouches in his chair until he’s only clinging to the seat by the power in his back alone. Which isn’t a lot. He sinks down to the floor with a groan and says decisively, “I’m telling Noct.”

“You will do no such thing.” Ignis points his knife at Prompto, but there’s only so much intimidating that can be done to a man already on the ground.

“He’s gonna find out eventually and then it’s gonna be worse. Is that the hill you wanna die on, Ignis?”

Ignis, the masterful tactician that he is, lowers the knife and sighs. “Do what you will, then.”

“I totally will.”

And he does. Ignis leaves after preparing dinner and his departure is only a few minutes shy of Noctis’ arrival. Well played. Prompto lets him have a head start and waits until after Noctis is finished eating to let him in on the fact that Ignis is living out of a trailer with an unknown amount of funds that is getting smaller every day. The first part he knows by admission, the second because Ignis is very clearly trying to stretch what remains of his hair gel.

It’s just not sustainable if he’s so hell-bent on feeding them so much. Prompto can’t believe he’s the one that’s finally bringing some sense to the table here.

Noctis reacts about as well as can be expected. Nothing says kingly material like barging in like the Infernian revived to the trailer that your friend is trying to survive in and flat out ordering said friend to pack up all their shit and get their ass in the car.

Ignis, for his part, looks ready to stand and fight for all of two seconds before Noctis repeats the totally sensible opinion that Prompto had presented earlier. There’s also the fact that Ignis has very little in the way of personal effects right now, and Ignis really isn’t the kind of person to accept being pitied, but, seriously.

“The couch isn’t that small,” Noctis says with the sort of finality that only enemies of the kingdom argue against. “Let’s go.”

And that’s how they wind up with two very different cars outside their apartment. At least they’re both broken somehow.

 

*

 

Budgeting becomes even less of an issue after that because Ignis told no jokes. He’s like some blessing sent to Prompto by the budgeting gods, especially after Noctis hauls him into the resort that he works for and tells them that he’s found the absolute perfect guy to fill the opening they have at the front desk. They bullshit his resume a little beforehand because the majority of Ignis’ work experience comes from taking care of Noctis and they’re still under the radar, but the managers take one look at Ignis’ whole deal and his cool accent, and then the next time Prompto sees him he looks more or less pleased with the concierge tag pinned to his vest.

This is also how Ignis discovers that nobody’s gone and gotten married or anything, but Noctis is very much running around in the wild using Nox Argentum as an alias. They’re halfway through his fake resume that no one will ever suspect when Prompto looks at Ignis with a great idea and asks, “Hey, you wanna be an Argentum, too?”

At which point he remembers that Ignis doesn’t know that Noctis just flat out lied to his employers about his name during that time where he went off his rocker, and then they never did anything else about the situation. Ignis is so offended at the idea of not getting to attend Noctis’ non-existent wedding that Prompto briefly worries he’ll somehow summon the powers of the Glacian right there in their living room, and then he’s bewildered as Prompto stumbles through an explanation. He looks to the ceiling like the water damage peeking through the paint might provide him with secret knowledge.

“I should have been trying to track  _you_ down, not Noct,” he says like it’s been that obvious the whole time.

Prompto pats his shoulder consolingly. “Maybe. It’s fine, though. You’re here now.”

Ignis doesn’t put a bad fake name on his resume, but he still gets the job. They have a pool of three incomes to play with, and after a couple of weeks date night gets so much easier to organize because they don’t have to try and make their kitchen feel romantic while Ignis is third-wheeling in the living room. They can go out and have actual  _dates_.

Something still hangs in the corners of the apartment, but Ignis does his best to keep it at bay. He has things like personal taste and an actual sense for interior decoration, which he uses to make their knick-knack shelf an actual bookshelf and to find nice frames for some of Prompto’s best shots. The new chair he gets so that they can all eat in the kitchen doesn’t match exactly, but it still has style. There was a cooking rotation in place before his arrival and it’s half dismantled after a week because even though they’re all trying to do things together here, they can’t always deny Ignis his love of cooking.

Umbra pops up again eventually, but Luna remains tight-lipped on their whereabouts.


	3. such is learning

Prompto and Noctis sometimes have days off together where they spend most of the day either sleeping or meandering the shore. If Ignis is also off work, they pile on the couch and yell at amateur chefs on the television.

It’s one of those days where Ignis is pulling long hours, though--or, that’s what they think he’s doing until he comes home while they’re napping in bed, all tangled up, and wakes them up with a dark bundle in his arms.

“I mentioned caring for a cat and so apparently that made me an authority on them,” he says. He sounds kind of helpless and Prompto has no idea why until he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and actually looks at what the thing in his arms is. A pair of yellow eyes stare back.

“Whazzat mean,” Noctis yawns into his pillow, not even opening his eyes until Prompto nudges him. He looks. The cat looks back. Ignis II moves from the top of Noctis’ pillow to the end of the bed. The new cat stares at him, too, until Noctis holds his arms out with a silent request.

Ignis circles around the bed and deposits a fat black cat into Noctis’ lap. “I thought to take him to the shelter, but it’s on the other side of town, so I decided to stop here first.”

Noctis buries his face in the cat’s fur, and it protests by slipping out of his grip. It doesn’t go far, though. New Cat and Ignis II spend the next minute in a stalemate until New Cat hops off the bed and disappears. Noctis makes a mournful sound. “Not my baby,” he says.

“Taking in a new pet is not a decision to make lightly,” Ignis says. He's got the face and posture of someone who already knows they've lost the war. “This one is a stray that was found behind the waste bins.”

“You brought it here,” Noctis points out. He rolls over off the side of the bed to peek underneath it. “Hey, buddy,” he says quietly after a couple seconds. “Are you comfy down there? Totally fine. We’re gonna take you to the vet and then you can sit on all the dirty laundry you want.”

Ignis looks very much like he’s resisting the temptation to look and see exactly how much laundry is hiding under the bed until he clears his throat and says, “I thought that might be the case.”

“New baby,” Noctis coos, apparently ignoring all else.

Prompto laughs a little as he gets out of bed and pulls on a shirt. “I’ll come to the vet if you’re goin’.”

“I’ll grab the carrier,” Ignis says with no further argument. A surrender without terms.   

They pile into the Nocturna with New Baby in Ignis II’s carrier. The claws came out for a bit, but Noctis remained entirely unfazed. After a trip to the vet and the pet store that isn’t quite so damaging to their savings, they come home and take turns staring at the cat that hides like a shadow under the bed.

“Have you thought of a name?” Ignis asks after Noctis has been engaged in a staring contest on the floor for ten minutes.

“Maybe.”

Prompto knows where this is going. It’s been on the horizon since they first put the cat in the car. “What are the chances that we name this guy and then the big guy himself comes knocking on our door?”

“Slim,” Noctis says.

“A worthy challenge at fate’s feet,” Ignis says jovially at the same time.

“Hm.”

They leave the cat alone for the night. Prompto’s sure he can hear shuffling under their bed before he falls asleep.

In the morning, there’s no shadow under the bed, and Noctis calls out, “Where’s Gladio the Second?” as he zombie shuffles out of the bedroom. Prompto snorts as he makes breakfast. Ignis is in the big chair with the cat--Gladio II, as foretold--half in his lap and half on the arm of the chair as he reads a book, last he checked.

“There’s the baby,” Prompto hears from the living room, right before the thud of a small weight hitting the floor. Noctis makes another sad noise and follows Gladio II back into the bedroom.

“How long did it take Electric Boogaloo there to adjust?” Ignis asks. Prompto very nearly chokes on his own spit because holy _shit_.

Noctis slouches into a chair behind Prompto, wholly unaffected by the fact that Ignis is referring to one of their pets by its joke name. “Like, no time at all. I brought him in and he was all for it. It was his master plan.”

“Yes, he does have a rather mild temperament, doesn’t he? No matter. Gladio II will adjust.”

And he does. Slowly, cautiously. He takes to Ignis best, probably because Ignis leaves him alone and doesn’t stare at him constantly. When he’s not hiding in his fortress under the bed, he’s hanging around the living room. When someone is cooking, he sits on one of the chairs and watches. He doesn’t purr as readily as Ignis II, but when he does it sounds like low thunder. He more or less gets along with Ignis II, but Prompto’s pretty sure it’s because Ignis II is too mild to get into catfights.

The back of his tag reads _Gladio 2: Back In Black_ because Ignis wouldn’t let them come up with something more silly. Prompto spends the next three days after they get the tag done watching the street outside, just in case the cat’s namesake miraculously appears. He doesn’t. Prompto wonders, vaguely, if he will.

 

*

 

The idea comes to him to make a scrapbook while he’s treating himself to lunch at an actual restaurant after he finished his morning appointments and realized that the rest of his afternoon is free. It’s just him and his camera, and this shot of Ignis strolling down the shoreline that Noctis managed to photobomb at the last second. It’s a funny picture, one he wants to keep because it looks completely fine until his eye comes across a blot near the upper right corner--Noctis immediately after a warp, trying to pose in midair while he makes a face at the camera. The pose is bad but the shot is good.

A hand comes down on his shoulder and voice says close to his ear, “Okay, first of all, you’re not gonna start screaming.”

Which is a very near thing because what the _shit_ \--

And then Gladio drops into the empty chair on the other side of the table and continues with a menu flipped open in front of his face, “Secondly, you’re gonna pay for lunch because at this point I think I deserve it.”

It’s like when Ignis just showed up out of the blue except with even less warning. There are no fancy cars or anything parked nearby. No calls or frantic texts from Noct, either. Gladio is just here. And Prompto is about to buy lunch for him, because okay, that’s fair. Gladio’s looking tired, a little ragged, and his fingers are close to white-knuckling the menu. Prompto tries to start light. An appetizer to what is sure to be some kind of deep trouble.

“ _Dude_ , where did you even _come_ from?”

“Not important,” Gladio says shortly. “How about we just have lunch, like a couple of civilized people. You know, eat a salad, or maybe a club wrap, while we talk about the weather and current events.” Here it comes. “Why don’t you start?”

What a fantastically merciful motion, giving Prompto the head start and all.

“It’s, uh. The last couple weeks have been pretty good here. Good weather, good work.” Ignis has a discount for all services offered by the resort he works with on account of being the best concierge ever, and so he got the group into their swanky restaurant for dinner last week. Gladio II finally let Noct pick him up like a baby, which is probably something Gladio I doesn’t want to hear. “How about you?”

“Great!” Gladio says with the false grin of a man who has been through everything else except great in the last two weeks. He waves down the waitress, puts his order in, and then turns back on Prompto, all sharp teeth and a looming silhouette. “I’ll fill you in while the food’s cookin’. So, I’m in the ass end of nowhere, right--”

“Wow, that sounds rough.”

“Yeah, well, last few months have been tough,” Gladio says casually. “You can probably relate. I mean, Galdin’s not exactly a cheap place, is it?”

Nope. No, it isn’t.

“But all considered, not a bad place to wind up. Need a vacation after shit went to hell? Why not?”

Prompto tries to look casual, in control, but he’s pretty sure he’s failing terrifically. Which is fine. All of this is. Yeah.

Gladio sighs and leans over the table on his elbows. His shoulders go down with him, and it’s like watching a fire gets doused. And aw shit, Prompto’s got nothing with him except a half-eaten salad and a camera full of pictures of all of them except Gladio. That’d be the lowest blow of all.

“So… how long were you on the road?”

Gladio starts counting on his fingers until he hits a full five. “About five months, give or take.” He makes a vague hand gesture. “Can’t fucking believe you’ve been sitting here the whole time. And you have, haven’t you?”

“More or less.” Prompto very nearly adds in the fact that Ignis thought the exact same thing. He doesn’t, though, because he’s too busy coming to terms with the fact that Gladio has been wandering around Lucis for five months, which means Ignis left--

\--less than two months after they ran away. At  _least_. Bahamut’s shiny ass.

He’s such an asshole. Noct is an asshole. Iggy is less of an asshole but they’re all still assholes. Leviathan take him now. Just drown him before it gets any worse.

Leviathan, predictably, does nothing.

“What are you even _doing_ here?” Gladio asks, apparently oblivious to the reason Prompto is trying to become one with his chair.

“I’m just, y’know, working?” Prompto lifts his camera weakly. It’s a pitiful offering to an angry god. “I do photoshoots for tourists. Noct’s a lifeguard.”

“Noct’s a life--okay, so he _is_ here, just to be clear.”

“Yeah, yeah, he is. We stuck together. Like glue. Super, super glue. He’s fine, literally nothing to worry about. Uh--I mean not that you shouldn’t have--I’ve totally been keeping my eyes peeled though--” 

He's no Shield, but he really has been trying. He keeps an eye out when they go shopping and he goes to visit Noct at work a lot. Mostly just to see him, admittedly, but also to make sure no one's harassing the lifeguard on duty--which he'd do anyway because the lifeguard on duty is good looking, sure, but he's also Prompto's boyfriend. 

“Damn right I should have been worried,” Gladio snaps. He settles down again quickly and rubs his forehead. Without raising his gaze again, he asks, “Where is he?”

“At home, I think. He’s off today.”

“Okay, where’s home? Because it clearly isn’t the Citadel, or his apartment, or anywhere else in the Crown City.”

Prompto gestures toward the rising walls to the east. They can’t see the house from here, but it’s over there. “We have a place. It’s not far.”

Gladio leans back in his chair and stares at Prompto like he’s a particularly weird and confusing jigsaw puzzle. It’s worse than when Ignis does it because Prompto can’t tell which angle Gladio is coming in from.

“How about you walk me through this?” he says finally. “Because here’s what it looks like from my point of view: the Crown Prince disappeared into thin air one day with his boyfriend--still boyfriends?”

“Still boyfriends, yep.”

“Disappeared for a romantic runaway vacation with his boyfriend, got it. And then, a month later--” A _month_. _Astrals_ , _Iggy!_ “--his most trusted advisor also disappeared and could only be tracked by whoever happened to catch his car in the rearview. And so there I am, almost at a complete loss, because the two remaining people who might have a single inkling as to what might be going on have nothing.”

One of those people is Luna. She’s sent Umbra their way twice since they landed here. The other is… Noct’s dad, maybe? Who else could it be? Prompto doesn’t hazard a guess out loud. If the king has any idea where there are then there shouldn’t have been so much trouble locating them.

“Took me ages to come back around here because I honestly thought you two would have gone farther than this,” Gladio continues.

A laugh bubbles up from Prompto’s chest. Just a tiny, half desperate sound. They’d wanted to, honestly. The plan was to do as much sightseeing as physically possible and then maybe think about piecing something else together. “Yeah, well, our car broke down, so we wound up just sticking around.”

“And, what, that’s it? You just got a job-- _Noct_ got a job--and now you’re here?”

Prompto nods carefully. The waitress returns with what’s probably the biggest and most expensive sandwich on the menu and Gladio is all charm for the few seconds that she’s at the table. Then he looks at Prompto while he takes the first bite like all the teachers Prompto’s ever known when they told the class that they’d wait for some semblance of order. He'll probably wait until the end of time if he has to.

And Prompto finds that it isn’t as hard to take a deep breath and spit it all out as he thought it would be, because, honestly, they did name the cat Gladio II. Fate picked that gauntlet up and wore it like it was the newest summer line.

Gladio is unnervingly impassive through it all--the running and the gasping for breath as soon as Insomnia was finally out of sight, the bad start and the time Noctis went off his rocker. All of it until Prompto says the words, “And then Iggy showed up and--”

At which point Gladio damn near does a spit take. He coughs like he’s choking for a minute and then says roughly, “You mean Ignis is here, too?”

“Mhm,” Prompto squeaks out. Maybe he should have mentioned that earlier because it turns out that Gladio can put up one hell of a front when he doesn’t think that literally everyone else in their little circle has been living it up on a beach for several months. But they have and now Gladio distinctly reminds Prompto of an injured garula he’d seen out the passenger window on the way to the quay all those months ago. There really is nothing to make him feel like a complete bastard like knowing he had a hand in making one of his own worst nightmares come to life for one of the strongest dudes he knows.

It’s no good and very bad and there’s only one thing he can think of that will possibly fix it.

Ignis will be so proud of his diplomacy.

“Wanna come over for dinner?”

Gladio rears back a little, which is understandable because Prompto didn’t even bother coming up with a good segue into that. “What?”

“Do you wanna come over for dinner,” Prompto repeats. He’s going for broke now even though that mostly means he’s rambling. “Iggy and Noct have a death match every time it’s Noct’s turn to cook because Iggy thinks he’ll win more often than he does, but Noct’s super good at making grilled fish, so he’d totally make it if you came over.”

Gladio is very much still trying to keep up. “Noct cooks dinner.”

“Grilled barramundi is the only thing he’s allowed to make on the stove because it’s the only thing that doesn’t make it look like he’s trying to commit arson.” Prompto leans and stretches one hand over their food. “But if you say yes then you gotta swear you won’t like, I dunno, call up Noct’s dad or something. I’ll even take a pinky swear.”

The only time Prompto’s seen a man more at war with himself is when Noctis told Ignis not to give him cooking tips while experimenting with his barramundi dish. Ignis wound up sitting in a chair directly behind him looking like he’d die if he said anything, and die again if he said nothing. The fish experiment did not go well, much like the way Gladio’s inner conflict does not go well.

Not for his royal duty, at any rate.

Gladio wraps his pinky finger around Prompto’s and Prompto straight up wheezes. The straight face that he manages to keep must be due to some offhand blessing from the Tidemother. 

“When’s dinner?” Gladio asks, so, so tiredly. “If you _and_ Ignis can handle keeping your mouths shut, Astrals know I can.”

 

*

 

Six o’clock rolls around and the one bedroom apartment is about as orderly as it can be when there are three people living in it, two of whom might be descended from gremlins. Prompto has a shirt on this time when he opens the door. Gladio steps inside like he thinks some secret security measure is going to force him back out, but the only thing that happens is Gladio II hopping off of Ignis’ lap to go glare at the unfamiliar face.

Dinner is. Nice. Sorta. Okay, so the beginning of it is one of the most stilted meals Prompto’s ever had. There are physical stilts and they bear an uncanny resemblance to Noctis trying to talk _to_ Gladio instead of _through_ him.

The thing is, they named the cat and made jokes and all, but they still only have three chairs in the kitchen and while Ignis tries hard to make it look otherwise in the mornings, it’s still very obvious that he lives with them on the couch. Worse, none of them is going to be able to fit another chair into that kitchen. Not Noctis with the stubbornness to match a mountain and not Ignis with the superhuman ability to organize too much stuff in too little space.

But Gladio, it turns out, _has_ been sleeping in his car and so there’s no way Noctis is doing anything except whipping out some heavy duty velcro. Prompto, again, cannot hear what Noctis and Gladio discuss on the stairs outside their apartment. All he catches is Noctis raising his voice almost an hour later to say, “No, Gladio, we can’t both be lifeguards.”

To which Gladio replies, “What else am I good for but _guarding lives_?”

It sounds less like petulance and more like Noctis did right before he, y’know, lived in the wilderness for three days. It kind of makes Prompto want to maybe hop off the roof because by the Six he is so not equipped to handle these questions.

Gladio drifts into the night, after. Noct comes back inside and does not break in any way, shape, or form until they’ve all settled down for bed. He’s got a cat curled over his head on the pillow and Prompto in his arms when he shudders and admits, “I didn’t think he’d go for it. I thought he’d…”

The laugh he trails off into sounds like anything but. It kind of disturbs Ignis II, that’s how wonky it is.

“What did you think he missed more?” Prompto asks tentatively. “You or his duty?”

Noctis laughs again and now he’s getting back on the right track. It sounds more like happiness and less like nails on a chalkboard. “We’re so stupid.”

Prompto snickers with him, because Noctis might know what a budget is, but all that means is that he knows for a fact that two idiots equals a lot of decisions that maybe weren’t thought through all the way.

He’s okay with admitting that, too, since Ignis is living on their couch and Gladio appears the next morning and sits in the big chair with Gladio II like he’d been sitting in it since they bought it.

 

*

 

Prompto tries very hard, but he never quite manages to figure out where it is that Noctis and Gladio disappear to for almost an entire week. He knows they don’t go far because there’s a difference between camping out in Galdin and camping out in the middle of _nowhere_ , but that’s about as much as he gets.

Due to the lack of reliable communication during that week, Noctis only finds out that Ignis has gone completely buck wild in the house hunting scene when he and Gladio barge back into the apartment with a bucket full of fish and an even deeper tan than they already had, and immediately hear Ignis vehemently declare, “So help me, I _will_ have a waterfront view.”

Noctis responds to this announcement to which he has no context to about as well as he reacts to any other news he receives without context. He latches onto Ignis, nearly dumping his fish bucket all over Ignis’ lap in the meantime, and demands to know where he thinks he’s going.

Ignis exclaims to the ceiling, “I’m not a miracle worker! These accommodations are no longer suitable--Gladio, my friend, much as we might try, I fail to see how we’ll both fit on this couch--”

Ignis’ rant continues on deaf ears after Noctis spots the papers that Ignis printed out at work spread across the coffee table. Prompto is partial to the spot on the west side of the quay because it’s close to the beach Noctis works at. He doesn’t go to purposefully distract his boyfriend or anything, but he doesn’t get to sit and watch him work in general often enough.

The only thing better than Noct going from afraid to happy again is the fact that, somehow, Gladio wrangled himself a gig at a bookstore, which means there are four players in the money game. Level _up_.

And then, when Prompto and Noctis go out to look at their options for themselves while Ignis and Gladio are working, it feels like when they first got here. No, wait. It feels better. Noctis isn’t struggling to adapt to the complete and utter downgrade that is moving from a palace to a matchbox, nor is he trying to make Prompto feel better about something he hasn’t said. Prompto himself isn’t stretching thinner and thinner trying to reconcile his devotion with their reality.

Because their reality is this: living in Galdin Quay isn’t cheap. But it’s a nice place to live when you have the support and stability offered by people who want little more than to be near you and will go to some absolutely mind-boggling, ridiculous lengths to do so.

Seriously, Iggy. _“All things considered.”_ Idiot.


	4. lights, lights; glitter on the water

Having to talk Ignis down is both a terrifying and sobering experience. It reminds Prompto that despite all their tenacity and resourcefulness on the road, Ignis and Gladio did in fact also grow up rich. He has to look Ignis in the eye and remind him that while the quay is to their overall tastes, they’re still… not rich anymore. They’re doing well in the money department, but not  _that_ well.

Fewer gauntlets have tried Prompto’s courage so thoroughly, but he gets it done.

Ignis agrees to compromise. Instead of being near the water, he settles for being able to see it in general, which isn’t bad, either. They wind up signing the lease on a house on the north side of Galdin with a view of both the town spread out below them and the water, which is a pretty good deal in Prompto’s book. He can see where Ignis works and, if he squints, the beach Noctis works on.

They finally get the Jalopy repaired, mostly out of necessity because Gladio didn’t want to leave two shiny, fancy cars parked in the driveway of a cheap building and totally give them all away. Ignis and Noctis can carpool in the Nocturna and Gladio can walk, but the new place is farther away from all of Prompto’s usual photoshoot locations. He likes walking and is all for public transit, but being partially responsible for a whole apartment has instilled a strong desire for reliable punctuality over time. So, they fix up their little yellow car and Prompto hangs out the passenger side again to take pictures as Noctis drives them to their new home.

The house Ignis found is better in many, many ways than the old apartment. It’s a newer building and doesn’t have bugs in it all the time, or birds nesting all over the place. The walls are painted in softer colours, leaning more toward blue. The lighting is fantastic. Begone, you dim, foreboding hallways. 

There are three bedrooms upstairs and Noctis ensures that he and Prompto get the master by way of sitting in the middle of the floor the first time they all go see the house together and declaring, “This is mine and Prompto’s room,” and then not moving until everyone is in agreement. Ignis takes the smallest bedroom and Prompto’s pretty sure he does it because he feels bad about ditching Gladio when he left Insomnia.

The kitchen is a room actually worthy of being called a kitchen, and Ignis argues that if he has the smallest bedroom then he gets stewardship of the kitchen. He wins on account of Gladio not being able to lie and say he likes all of Prompto’s cooking. They don’t have to do battle with physics or doorways or tight corners too get both a table and the appropriate number of chairs into the dining area, either. Talk about an upgrade.

The living room is the perfect size for the big chair. It also has a bay window and while Ignis says he isn’t as excited about it as he is, Prompto’s lived with him for too long to be fooled by such lies. If it didn’t have the second best view in the house, maybe. But as it stands, no way in a million years.

There’s a yard. A small, fenced-in plot of grass, but a yard all the same. Ignis responds to it by clasping Gladio right by the pec and saying as if he’d just heard the voice of the Oracle in his head, “We can have a grill.”

Gladio scratches his head and says, “Starting to think we should have run away sooner.”

It is, in a word, cozy. Not huge, but just big enough for them. Spacious enough for Ignis and Gladio to keep expanding their book collection, for Prompto and Noctis to collect more weird knick-knacks, and for there to be a bajillion clawing posts littered around.

Noctis and Prompto get their bed moved in and immediately lay down for a nap with the cats. When Prompto wakes up, Gladio has made off with the Jalopy to bring what's left of their boxes back, and Ignis is grocery shopping in the Nocturna for the ingredients to make a homecoming meal.

The first meal in the new house is delicious--heartwarmingly fantastic--and Ignis glows with the praise. After, Prompto huddles on the back steps with Noctis while Ignis and Gladio sit nearby in the fold-out chairs they’ve been carrying around since their respective road trips. Light from the hallways inside spills into the darkening yard, and their voices and laughs float up and up and up.

Umbra arrives a few days later, laden with an extra delivery tucked in with Luna’s notebook. Noctis carefully unwraps a frame small enough to sit on a shelf, reads a few words written on the back in neat, flowing script, and then turns it over to find a photograph of Luna herself--kneeling in a field of sylleblossoms with Pryna and Umbra, with dirt stains on her knees and wind blowing her hair around her smile. Noctis puts it on their bookshelf and frames it with a ceramic tide grouper and a gathering of seashells that have googly eyes glued to them.

When all the lights are finally off and they’ve settled in for the first night in their new home, Noctis grins and grins, and instead of wondering how his face hasn’t broken yet, Prompto kisses him for all he’s worth.

 

*

 

Prompto cringes when he looks at the beginning of his photo album and realizes he can’t find a way to make it look like half their household didn’t spend months contending with straight up abandonment. There’s just no way unless he skips so many things.

And then Gladio sees it by accident and Prompto thinks, briefly, that he might as well  _burn_ it--but then Gladio flips through the first shots of Leide, of Hammerhead and Longwhythe, and the beautiful canyon walls that lead the way to Galdin. He sees the first parking ticket that Noctis ever got outside the Crown City and the receipt for the new phones they bought. He sees the quote Prompto got for the amount of money they wouldn’t be able to spend on fixing the Jalopy, and the very first shots of the old apartment.

He laughs, big and loud and with his whole dang body, and tells Prompto that Noctis’ parking ticket should get a whole page to itself just to make Iggy mad at Noctis.

He tells Prompto that he’s doing a bang-up job, which is… good? Yes?

Prompto is so giddy as he sets about reorganizing the first few pages that his fingers shake near uncontrollably. Then he dashes from his bedroom to Iggy’s to show him the progress too--if Gladio thought it was sick, then this must not have been such a bad idea after all.

Ignis does get kind of mad about the ticket, but it’s more like the fond exasperation that he’s adopted for most things Noctis does badly as opposed to genuine displeasure. He then borrows Prompto’s camera for a spell to select pictures that he’s included in for the project.

The shot of him on the beach on that warm evening with Noctis posing post warp in the corner, thankfully, makes the cut.  

There are pages dedicated to fish Noctis caught and to their cats, and for the tickets they got to visit the aquarium and the very, very long receipt from Noctis’ first ever, completely off the hook trip to the pet store. There’s a page that Noctis insisted on including from that time Prompto bought more food instead of new contacts, where Noctis stole the camera and took pictures of Prompto doing literally everything he normally does except this time with glasses on.

There are two pages dedicated to Ignis’ arrival--a picture of him with his glasses fogging up as he leans over a pot of soup, and another of him sitting in the big chair with a damp cloth on his face and a thermometer in his mouth, looking supremely unimpressed overall. After that, there are the first new books that went on the shelf, two out of three being cookbooks, and a picture of him dabbling with paint. There’s another trip to the aquarium, this time with Ignis decked out in a button-down covered in starfishes. He’s also got a swanky new pair of glasses after his other pair broke under Prompto’s shoe.

Then there’s Gladio chilling in the big chair with Gladio II curled up on his lap while he reads, and a shot of the complete disbelief on his face after Ignis took him to school and back in King’s Knight. There’s him walking through the early morning mist with Ignis II, and the receipt of a photography book that Prompto had him ring up as soon as he could after hearing Gladio got the job. And then he’s squished into the Jalopy and doing most of the heavy lifting when they moved in, the pictures accompanied by the tags and stickers that came off the new foldout chairs he bought so that the four of them could chill in the yard on clear nights. There’s yet another visit to the aquarium where Gladio found himself a hat shaped like a shark, and then a page filled with question marks surrounding a collage of him hunched over his laptop in various nooks and crannies of the house.

The most recent page details the night they went back to the fancy resort restaurant to celebrate Gladio being commended for being one of the best employees ever, of all time. There are aesthetically awesome shots of the food they ate and of Noctis trying and failing to give himself a chocolate moustache. There’s Ignis just doling out the cash like he isn’t biting into his savings to pay for the absolute monster of a sweet dessert he ordered for Gladio, and Gladio grinning like Prompto’s never seen before.

After squeezing a year’s worth of memories into the album, Prompto upgrades and gets a bigger binder that has space for them all and then some.

 

*

 

It’s a perfect day for Prompto’s line of work. The sky is clear, the wind is cool, and the atmosphere is going to be amazing to take pictures in. He’s going out on a boat today, something he only does when a client is particularly wealthy and therefore able to pay a little extra for the sake of his safety, and he’s more than a little excited about it. Working only with what the boat and endless blue horizon can give him is always a fun challenge. He practically skips to the dock noted in the client’s messages, that’s how good he feels about this day.

And then, very suddenly as he’s just coming up to the boat he’ll be shooting on, he feels decidedly not good.

Because here’s the thing: when you’ve met the King of Lucis once, you kind of don’t forget his face. Not even when it’s obscured by a cap and the high collar of a loose jacket.

It’s a far cry from the last time he’d met King Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, which was during a semi-formal lunch that he’d attended because Noct’s  _dad_ wanted to meet his son’s  _boyfriend_. And it’s not like he had a bad time--His Majesty has a sense of humour that is startlingly close to Noctis’--but he never did quite manage to get over the fact that he was sitting, like, right next to the king and he’d dropped some sauce and missed the napkin on his lap. What a great first impression.

But even embarrassing himself at a table he’d shared with the king is leagues better than--than  _this_. Than having to face the king as he turns to Prompto with a look in his eyes that says it all. The king has not seen his son in a year and he knows exactly whose fault that is.

Prompto musters up all the strength he can to get through what is sure to be the last, oh, couple hours of his short life. “Your--um--Reg--uh--Mr. Caecitas?”

Oh yeah. Lookin’ good, hot stuff.

 _Reginald Caecitas_ gives him a smile that is very friendly considering the circumstances. “Mr. Argentum. How wonderful to see you; I’m glad you could fit us in on this fine day. Are you ready to get underway?”

Prompto is trying to smoke out anything belying the king’s very much still friendly tone when a shadow falls over him. He sneaks a look over his shoulder and, yep, Clarus Amicitia’s disguise is kind of not great either, but his face is also one that can’t exactly be forgotten easily. Not when he’s looming like this, very clearly conveying that it’s either the boat or the bottom of the ocean for Prompto.

Prompto fumbles with his own hands and accidentally gives Regis both a thumbs up and a finger gun. “Yep! Just--yeah, gimme the word!”

Regis gestures toward the boat, inviting Prompto to board first. Prompto’s not about arguing with kings, so he takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back, and goes. He turns just in time to see Regis limp slightly with his cane as he boards next, and it’s one of those split seconds where the bottom of the ocean actually looks cozy. Clarus is last off the shore, effectively blocking Prompto from his salvation.

And then it’s just them, three dudes on a boat moving farther and farther away from shore. There are other boats out--of course they are on such a perfect day--but Clarus steers their vessel way, way out. Galdin Quay becomes a smudge on the horizon before the boat slows again. Regis doesn’t say a word until then, and so Prompto doesn’t, either.

Then, the anchor drops and the boat stops and Regis goes to the bow. Clarus follows him with--fold-out chairs? And--and a tackle box? Regis already has a fishing rod out. He’s just carrying that thing around in the Armiger like Noctis does, apparently. Maybe he’s been doing it for decades on the off chance he passes a fishing hole.

He sits down in one of the chairs and then pats the other one. “Come sit with me, Prompto. The fish are truly biting in this location.”

Prompto eases himself into the empty chair as Regis casts the line. He’s got one hand in a death grip around the arm of the chair, and the other in only an iron grip around his camera. It’s a new one and it took him forever to save up for. He hopes it survives, at least.

“Blessed weather,” Regis says conversationally, as if Prompto hasn’t become a sentient rock.

“Yeah.” Prompto doesn’t know how he gets the air out for that, but he does.

“You look well,” Regis continues. “Galdin has treated you well.”

Prompto has burned more times than he can count and barely tanned, but he does have more freckles than he’s ever had before. He was thin as a rail at first, but ever since their budgeting issue loosened up he’s gained his healthy weight back. And he just feels… good. Confident. So, sure. Galdin has been pretty good. He says as much, and Regis seems pleased.

Prompto asks how he’s doing because he’s stalling. Terribly.

“Quite well,” Regis replies. He hums in a way that is definitely not quite well and Prompto steels himself for the inevitable--but Regis just reels his line back in and recasts it slightly to the right. The lure sinks down and Prompto thinks he sees a flicker of colour under the waves. Regis smiles again. “My duties have not kept me so terribly busy as of late, so I felt that a breath of fresh air was in order. It has been far too long since I visited these waters.”

If Regis has been to these waters within the last, uh, twenty years or so, then Prompto has no idea. Kind of a busy guy and all, what with being the king, especially when his kid isn’t around to help out.

“Yeah, it’s a really nice spot for a break.” And okay, Prompto can’t do this anymore or else he won’t be breathing at all. “Um--when did you get here--uh, Your Majesty? I mean, it’s nice to see you, totally! I just… had no idea you’d left the capital.”

Like, seriously, no idea. Ignis checks up on the news and does some weird backwards math to figure out what's actually happening just from clues from the papers, and even he’s seen no sign that the king had gone anywhere. Heck, he’s gotten more news about Noctis being missing than anything else. The papers are still reporting that he’s off on some study program in Duscae.

Regis angles himself toward Prompto to level him with the most knowing look Prompto’s ever seen. It’s actually gone beyond knowing and straight into the “I’m laughing at you inside” range, complete with a twinkle in the eye and everything. “Noctis can be quite slippery when he wants to be. It took quite some time to be truly certain of his location. Where did you think he learned it from?”

And then he adjusts his cap and goes back to fishing. You know, as you do. 

Prompto gives it about ten seconds before he tamps down the sinking feeling in his gut and speaks up again. “So… you’ve known for, uh…”

“Oh,” Regis says, heaving a sigh that can only be called dramatic, “perhaps eight months or so.”

 _Astrals above_. What the hell? Prompto ducks away to count his fingers, and then counts again. _Ignis_ hadn’t even found them eight months ago. Something seriously isn’t adding up.

“Are you serious?” Prompto asks. He definitely doesn’t choke on it. “You’ve known where Noctis was all this time?”

Regis hums. He doesn’t explain anything, though, because something has finally taken the lure and he’s concentrating on reeling it in. A small fish with glittering violet scales flops around at their feet for a few seconds before he carefully extracts it from the hook and tosses it back into the ocean. “Pretty,” he comments, “but not quite worthy of a photograph.”

Prompto takes a moment to let that sink in. The King of Lucis has hired him to take pictures of his catches.

Truly, this man is Noct’s father.

Regis casts the line again and then settles back in his chair. “The burdens carried by the line of Lucis are heavy indeed,” he says evenly. His voice is soft but it might as well boom across the waves. Prompto leans in to listen. “Yet, every king and queen has stepped up to perform their duty, stifling as it may be. And it often is stifling. Apologies, Clarus.”

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you royals,” Clarus says. It’s fondly spoken, no offence taken from the literal king admitting that his own Shield’s duties apparently contribute to some of his problems. Prompto almost feels like he’s intruding on the exchange, but he’s also reminded of Noctis and Gladio. Noctis, chafing constantly, and Gladio, just trying to keep things balanced.

“It has always been my wish, however,” Regis continues somberly, “that Noctis be able to know what it is to lead a life different from his father’s. I knew the troubles in his heart as I knew my own. So, when I learned that he had slipped away into the night… I let him go. I prayed to the gods that he would remain safe wherever the winds of the world took him.” He turns to Prompto again with a soft smile and nods. “You have done admirably, Prompto.”

Prompto flushes. The king knows that he’s been at Noctis’ side since the start. The fact that he apparently trusted Prompto the whole time to keep Noctis safe, though? Excuse the smoke, Your Majesty, Prompto just needs a moment to reboot himself.

Because  _he_ knows that there’s no way he’d ever ditch Noctis, or let him get hurt when there’s something he could do to help--but to hear that Regis, of all people, actually believes in him is really something else. Prompto’s just--he’s just  _Prompto_. He only figured out actual responsibility because otherwise, he’d starve-- _Noctis_ would starve. His only combat training comes from arcade games and the time someone broke into the old apartment and he chased them out with a kitchen knife while his heart threatened to pound out of his ribs.

“Thank you,” Prompto says shakily. “It’s no problem. I’m always gonna be at his side.”

“For which I am grateful,” Regis says. He turns away to reel in another fish, but it’s just a sleek little brown thing and he tosses it back, too. Out goes the line again, down goes the lure. _Swish, plunk_. “Now, tell me, Prompto--how has Galdin treated him?”

Prompto is still trying to really get over the fact that the king of Lucis actually likes him. It takes a moment to figure out what words are again. The problem after that is deciding which words get to go first because Noctis is, in all honesty, doing pretty damn good.

Noctis had been mellow by necessity in Insomnia. If he wasn’t, then everything was just too heavy and bad and overall not great. Now, he’s still pretty chill, but in the way that while there’s definitely still a bunch of things looming over him, they aren’t all settled right on top of his shoulders. He’s calmer, more confident, the same way Prompto’s gotten more confident. He’s diligent in his care of the cats and there’s a dry erase board hanging on their corkboard that had dates listed for things like holidays and due dates and other assorted things that he’s actually keeping track of.

To hear it all makes Regis seem so content that Prompto finally manages to relax. He doesn’t even notice when all the tension leaves his muscles. He just realizes it halfway through an anecdote about how good Noctis has gotten at cleaning things.

He’s miles away from home, chilling on a fishing vessel with Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, who accidentally snaps one of his fishing lines because Prompto’s distracting him so badly. Clarus has to dig out a new one and he does it the same way Gladio does--with an eye roll and a jab at the king’s rusty fishing skills.

And they’re having a good time.

Prompto takes exactly three pictures.

One of Regis’s profile as he squints at whatever’s biting at his lure, the cap and the collar of his jacket obscuring a lot of his face, but not the sheer concentration in his eyes.

One of Clarus making sandwiches, hand blurring as he cuts one in half. Prompto tells him to smile for the camera and he offers up a slanted thing that really drives in the fact that he's Gladio’s dad.

And one of all three of them at the bow of the boat. Prompto’s kneeling in the front using outstretched arms to present the biggest damn tide grouper he’s ever seen. It had taken all three of them to get it out of the water and it takes Clarus and Regis--but mostly Clarus--to hold it up. Prompto’s grinning like a maniac and Regis looks practically smug, which is completely surreal in and of itself.

The afternoon drifts and drifts until they return to the quay, where Regis squeezes Prompto’s shoulder and thanks him again. Then he starts walking away, leaving Prompto on the dock doing his best impression of one of the fish he’d caught. Everything about the moment says, “That’s a wrap,” but there’s no way it actually is. Is it?

Clarus follows him, and before he goes he offers only one answer to Prompto’s many questions. He hands Prompto a slip of paper and says, “We’ve got two days left on vacation before it’s back to the grindstone.”

And then they’re gone and Prompto has nothing but his camera and an address.

 

*

 

Nobody is home yet. He should make dinner before everyone else starts getting off work.

He doesn’t.

Noctis will be the first to come back. Ignis tries to be back in time for dinner as often as possible, but sometimes his schedule fluctuates. Him not being home right now means he’ll be late. Gladio just lets his shifts fall where they may but usually comes back before they’re all in bed. But now, the sun is sinking and the public beaches are closing. Noctis will be home first.

He finds Prompto in their bedroom and tries to guilt trip him about there not being any food for all of about thirty seconds. Then he notices that something is off, which is something that he’s really good at doing. Prompto’s super thankful for it because he has no idea how to start this conversation.

Noctis asks what’s wrong and Prompto tells him not to worry or anything no less than three times before he shows Noctis the first picture he took.

“What about it?” Noctis asks. He squints at the picture again, trying to find some issue in the framing or the colours, or maybe the camera itself, and Prompto can pinpoint the exact second that he realizes who the subject is.

Prompto shows him the next picture.

“Prom,” Noctis says tersely. A warning all full of dread, begging Prompto not to show him the last picture. Prompto does it anyway. It takes a while for it to really compute, which is understandable. Noctis is worried about several things right now and one of them being his boyfriend assisting in the catch of the year is probably not one of them. But there they are, and there’s the monster fish.

“Hey,” Prompto says quietly. “Remember when I said everything’s all good? No freaking out necessary?”

Noctis looks at him like he’s gone and sprouted a new head within the last twenty seconds, so Prompto finally takes a deep breath and recounts his day. Going down to the boats, meeting someone whose name definitely isn’t actually Reginald, sailing on a boat and fishing until Clarus declared that they couldn’t fish the night away. Sharing whatever story floated into his head, taking a picture here and there, and then nearly falling into the ocean when he actually didn’t want to anymore when he went to help reel in the giant tide grouper.

Noctis just gets more and more confused and the address Prompto hands him doesn’t make it any better.

“I think he gets it,” Prompto tells him earnestly. Downstairs, he hears the front door open and shut. They both ignore Ignis’ voice. “He gets it, Noct, and he just… wants to check up on you, y’know? See how you’re doing. I think you’re gonna be okay.”

When Ignis knocks on the door and pokes his head into the room, it’s to see them sitting in the middle of the bed, Prompto trying his best to wrap his skinny arms around Noctis’ shuddering body. He exchanges one soft look with Prompto and then shuts the door silently.

 

*

 

The hotel that Regis and Clarus are staying at is pretty much the fanciest place Galdin Quay has to offer. It’s right next to the Mother of Pearl, floating out there on the water, and Prompto can’t even imagine what staying in one of those rooms is like.

He doesn’t get to find out, either. He gets as far as the hallway outside of the room before Noctis turns to him and tells him to go home.

And Prompto’s got about fifty different protests to that, most of which are on his tongue and duking it out for which gets to come out, but then Noctis puts both hands on Prompto’s cheeks and kisses him softer than Prompto thinks he’s ever been kissed.

“It’ll be fine,” Noctis whispers. “Go home, Prom.”

It is with great reluctance that Prompto goes home, leaving Noctis to his fate.

Ignis is sitting in the bay window trying to look like he’s reading and Gladio is sitting in the big chair trying to look like he’s writing when Prompto rolls up in the Jalopy. Ignis has Gladio II and Gladio has Ignis II. All four sets of eyes lock in on Prompto when he walks in. The cats go back to sleep, but Ignis and Gladio wait expectantly.

Prompto doesn’t have much else for them besides a shrug. Noct told him to come home, so he’s come home. He has no idea what Noctis is talking about with his dad in that hotel room all the way on the other side of town. He’s trying really hard not to worry about it because Regis was chill the day before. He’s probably chill now. Right?

Prompto spends most of the day editing pictures, trying to make the colour of that tide grouper really jump out without washing everyone else out. Washing out the king probably isn’t a capital offence, but Prompto isn’t gonna be the one who finds out first hand, no sir.

Ignis mixes a snazzy shade of blue paint but doesn’t do anything with it. Gladio writes maybe six words and probably deletes all of them.

Around dinner time, Ignis finally sighs and says that he’ll get something whipped up, and  _that’s_ when Noctis chooses to fly into the apartment like he’s just raced against the end of time to get here.

“Sit down, Ignis,” he orders with all the power and command of the royalty in his blood. The sweat clinging to his forehead does nothing to diminish this. “I’m making grilled barramundi.”

That’s about as much warning as Prompto gets before Noctis descends on the grill in the backyard like a hero of legend--if heroes of legends wielded fish fillets, anyway.

He also announces that his dad is like, thirty minutes behind him, tops, which is, as it happens, also how he decides to warn them his dad is also coming over for dinner. This immediately sends Ignis into a frenzy because nobody’s cleaned the litter boxes yet and there’s dust on various surfaces. Gladio spends ten minutes staring at himself in the mirror before helping Ignis set up a suitable spot in the yard to host dinner, but Prompto can’t say what it is he’s rehearsed.

This, naturally, leaves Prompto the only one available to open the door when their guests arrive. He double checks that he’s wearing a shirt. He knows he must be because Ignis demanded that he change out of the tank top he was wearing at the start, but he still does it.

He opens the door, and there he is on Prompto’s front porch, the king of Lucis. His Shield is there, too, and Prompto definitely catches him glancing around the front of the house and everything he can see within it with critical eyes. Just, y’know, doing his job.

But Regis is wearing that cap again, which is apparently all he really needs to go wandering around undetected. He takes the cap off when he steps inside though, all proud and graceful, almost as if he’s stepping into his throne room and not his runaway son’s living room. Gladio II responds about as well as he always does to guests, but eventually slinks off to glare from under the kitchen chairs while Ignis II rubs himself all over the new pant legs.

Ignis all but wrestles their guests out of their jackets, and they try to lead them through the house to the back yard, but then Noctis yells at them, “I’m not done yet! Give them a tour or something.”

And so King Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII is treated to a tour as well as dinner. Prompto shows him the knick-knack collection and their fancy kitchen, and he points out who sleeps where. Regis finds the googly-eyed shells humorous somehow, and he likes the half-finished painting sitting in the corner of Ignis’ room, which Ignis seems to respond to almost as well as he does to compliments about his cooking. Clarus finds out his son is writing a book and, honestly, seems happy with the fact that Gladio’s found an outlet in it.

By the time they finally make it back to the yard, Gladio is setting out barramundi fillets grilled damn near to perfection. There are four fold-out chairs and two dining chairs huddled around the table and Noctis is tapping one of them with both hands, now impatient to get his dad to stop walking around on his bad leg.

Regis takes a seat. They all follow suit. Noctis is right next to him and somehow Prompto winds up between Regis and Clarus. Regis starts off by thanking them for having him over and then, before anyone can think to dwell on the uncertainty in the air, the creeping awkwardness, he laments the fact that Clarus wouldn’t let them keep that freakishly huge tide grouper. He’d all but ripped it from Regis’ hands and tossed it back in the water, and now all they’re left with is that picture Prompto took.

That gets the ball rolling like nothing else because, oh yeah, Regis is a king. He totally knows how to do away with something as pesky as awkward conversations.

Prompto eats dinner with Noct’s dad and it goes way better than that lunch did. Noctis is smiling--actually, genuinely smiling, so much that Prompto feels like he could survive on seeing that alone--and people are laughing, and Prompto isn’t making a huge fool of himself.

He excuses himself from the table as soon as he feels like Ignis won’t corner him and lecture him for it later and comes back with the unfinished photo album. Clarus finds the parking ticket especially hilarious for reasons wildly beyond Prompto's imagination until he launches into the story of how Regis crashed the Regalia the very first time he drove it out of the city. Like father like son, apparently.

This is a pretty good opening for everyone else to swap stories about how hard they have to work to keep the line of Lucis from ending over seemingly innocuous things, to which Noctis responds by slapping his hand down on their picnic table and saying, “Hey, I pay rent and I bought all the cleaning supplies last time. Who’s responsible now?”

If Prompto hadn’t known that this is exactly the sort of thing Regis had been hoping for Noctis to experience, he’d be surprised about how proud Regis is to hear that.

The empty plates are eventually swept away by Ignis, and then they sit in the yard for a while longer as more and more stars peek out. Just a bunch of dudes chatting and drinking iced tea in the light of the hallway drifting out the back door.

And then, in what is probably the clearest show of how far Noctis has come, he hugs his dad goodbye as he gets ready to leave. It’s a funny sort of half hug with only one arm involved, but a hug is a hug. Prompto just barely manages to snap it with his camera.

And that’s when he realizes that he’s practically been holding his breath the entire evening, no matter how much he enjoyed the food, the company. Regis and Clarus climb into the Regalia, which is in wonderful condition after its vacation in Hammerhead, and Noctis--

\--stays. With Prompto, on the front porch. His arm is around Prompto’s shoulders, and the weight soothes the nerves that had shot down his spine when dinner ended. He’s still here. He’s not climbing into that car. Prompto would follow him without question, but...

The last thing Prompto hears before the Regalia pulls out of the driveway is, “Regis, I did not let you drive thirty years ago and I’m not letting you drive now.”

And then Noctis is tugging him back into the house, their house, where Gladio is cleaning up the back yard and Ignis is washing the dishes. Where, in the morning, they have a view of all the town as it wakes up before Prompto and Gladio go for a walk with the cats. Where, after they come home, Prompto sits next to Noctis, across from Ignis and Gladio, to enjoy the tasty breakfast prepared by Ignis before they all have to go to work.

Where, at night, Noctis and Prompto curl up together, wish each other goodnight, and go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last part of this little story. There was originally going to be a different ending, but then I decided that going home is for another day. 
> 
> Thanks for all your awesome comments and kudos, and for chillin' with me :)


End file.
